The sundown before the attack, I gathered up the courage to ask her; she appeared so much more intimidating during moonhigh. I instantly shook off that thought; she was a cub! How could I fear a cub?

“What are you thinking of?” I asked, berating myself for thinking that way. Fearing a cub. Hah.

“How the clan will do in the attack. Will we lose anyone?” She replied, but she sounded distant and thoughtful. It seemed as if...she wasn’t thinking of the clan. Troubled, I banished the errant thought to the back of my mind and lay down my head to sleep, to prepare for the attack.

The next sundown, the camp was alive with tense but excited wolves. Would we rid of the other clan once and for all? They asked. Will we show them that they’ve no place in the forest? Only Lostheart remained her usual self, calm and silent, except that instead of staring at the moon, she was staring in the direction we would take to attack the other clan. I saw her mouth moving, but she wasn’t talking to anyone. Curious, I crept closer.

“…Nightclaw, are you ready? We attack tonight…” Who was she speaking to? We had a Nightpelt, but not a Nightclaw.

“Who’s Nightclaw?” I asked. She whirled, instantly on guard.

“I was thinking aloud. But shouldn’t I be the one asking? Asking why you were eavesdropping?” So this is what she was like when she was bothered at moonhigh. Humbled, for she’d never spoken to me like that before, I slunk away after a short apology. Who was Lostheart, anyway? Where had she come from?

“Hey Granitefur, want to run with me?” Tornear called. I flicked my ear in his direction, accepting the invitation. All around the camp, wolves paired up, for a lone wolf was a blind cub against a pack. Although one could fight, the wolf would easily be overpowered.

“Ready?” Silverpelt called. A myriad of different calls came in reply. Soft barks, low snarls, high-pitched whining… Yes, we were ready. Too ready. “Let us go!” He hissed, and took off, with all but five wolves tailing him. Silently, we ran through the forest, the only sound the wind whistling through the trees, and the trees rustling. Lostheart rode on my back; her legs were too short to keep up with the speed we were going. We were confident we would win and drive the Longclaw clan out of the forest. But what we met was nothing we were prepared for.

Out of nowhere, a wolf, much larger than I, rammed into my side, sending me sprawling. Lostheart tumbled off, and in a heartbeat, was gone, taken. Suddenly, wolves dropped down onto us from above, taking down the rear of our group. When we’d recovered from shock, they were gone. Fleetshadow and Nightpelt, among others, lay dead, their necks snapped. Still, we pressed on. It was as if…they knew.